"Bud, we got two dead girls and this dumbfuck admits to sleeping with both of 'em within hours before they were killed." But on the other hand, Bud points out, they also had vampire bites on them, and Jason's not a vampire. Not exactly. Jason comes for the first time and drops to the floor, screaming. He writhes, moaning, as Bud and Andy hotfoot it toward the bathroom door. Andy tries, and starts knocking and yelling; Jason tries desperately to clean himself off, moaning quietly to himself and trying to stall.
Tara parks right outside the police station, and comes looking for Jason immediately. "You charging him with anything? I assume he's been properly Mirandized?" Blank stares. "Tell me you informed him he has a right to have an attorney present." Andy giggles to himself that this is no longer a concern, now that she's arrived; Tara stares him down. "Is that funny because I'm a woman? Or because I'm a black woman?" Andy says it's funny for neither reason, but because she talks like a lawyer from television. "How do you know all this anyway?" asks Bud. "You been taking night classes?" Tara blows them off, and is awesome: "School is just for white people looking for other white people to read to them. I figured I'd save my money and read to myself."
Jason hobbles out and stares at Tara, who promises to get him out of there. Andy protests and tries to get strong, but Tara knows he's got nothing, and Bud agrees: without a charge they can't hold him. "He can't say where he was last night! At least he coulda done make some shit up!" Andy Bellefleur is gross. This isn't a game and it has nothing to do with your cock. Girls are dying and you're too full of random old-man sex jealousy creepiness and obsession to care. Jason whines that he was sleeping alone last night, which is true, and Andy screams, "You never sleep alone, Stackhouse, and you know it!" Um, that is all in your gross mind. Congratulations on being the only person on earth to think about Jason's cock more than Jason (and possibly Tara). Old straight white dudes are the worst! Your creepy old man dick is not important to anybody! It is not magical! It does not want to fight with anybody else's dick! You and your dick are obsolete! Concentrate on your own irrelevance and insecurity, and stay out of my pants!
God, nothing creeps me out more than that, when the whole virility envy/fear comes up in their wrinkly old eyes and they get those thin lips and start making judgments. Nothing. It's like looking at somebody with their skin inside-out so you can see their insides on the outside, crying for their stupid mama. Where does it come from, this magical thing with the dick where it's like a whole other person they simultaneously hate and fear and also it's all they can think about? And they expect you to ... play along with this weird dissociative behavior, and before you know it you're saying the stupidest things and trying to play along without laughing in their big dumb intensely-into-it faces. Where does that come from? It's like the cum on the face thing, it's so mysterious. I think Jason has something to teach us about all of this.